Shugo Akuma
by Amber Incendia
Summary: Beyond Birthday's spirit is tied to the earth because of his half-shinigami blood. So, bent on revenge, he targets the L organization through the girl destined to become the world's next greatest detective... BBxOC
1. Dreams

**A/N: Hi everyone! This is an idea I've had in my head for awhile, but only recently started writing down. If there's anything you don't like or think I should change, please feel free to leave some constructive critisism in the form of a review. It's really appreciated. :)**

**Thanks go out to silvereyescancry and summersetsoul for helping me with this! You guys rock. 3**

I curled up under my soft, warm covers, trembling slightly and hoping that tonight would be different. That tonight he wouldn't visit me, and breathe his icy cold breath into my ear, filled with deceit and lies that wormed their way into my head and drove me insane with every passing second.

When the temperature of the room began to drop, I could no longer deny the truth. There was a faint crackling sound as the window slowly frosted over, and I squeezed my eyes shut and put my hands over my ears, desperately trying to block out everything.

But I couldn't block out the sweet and cloying smell of rasperry jam, barely disguising the stench of blood and death. Or the cold, which wrapped it's icy fingers around my fragile body and made it so that every freezing breath I took was like a stab to my ribs.

What I was feeling then, however, was downright warm compared to the frigid fingers that then brushed over the skin of my cheek. My eyes flickered open, a tear sliding out only to freeze on the edge of my chin.

I staired up into bright shinigami-red eyes, which gazed at me indiffrently. "H-Hello B." I stuttered, my teeth chattering from the chilly air. "Hello... Zen." He replied, his silky voice decievingly smooth.

He stood up, but not fully. He always slouched slightly, as if he were carrying something extremely heavy on his back. The weight of what? I had always wondered, but never dared to ask.

His long black hair was messy to the point where it stuck out in random spikes, and his skin was slightly transparent, like tracing paper, allowing me to see just the outline of objects behind him. He wore a longsleeved rumpled black t-shirt, and worn-out jeans. Nothing had changed, really, but I doubted that a spirit could really do much about their appearence. They were probably stuck looking the way they had when they died.

B lounged next to me on the narrow bed, reaching over to brush a strand of hair out of my face. I lay petrified as he compleated the action, then gave me a bone-chilling smile, causing a shiver to run down my spine.

"Don't worry, you can sleep." He told me, and I suddenly found myself extremely tired. Lying my head down on the pillow, I struggled to remember why it was that a part of my brain was screaming at me not to fall asleep, not until I started the metronome on my bedside table...

But my mind was fuzzy, and I could barely make out a coherent thought. I saw the figure of B blur, and then I closed my eyes, surrendering to my dreams.

Just before I drift off completely, I hear a chuckle. "Sweet dreams, darling Zen..."

_My dream doesn't make sense, as dreams rarely do._

_I'm sitting in a large room with no ceiling, so I can see the clear blue sky and smell the fresh spring breeze. There are no windows in the room for me to look at what I am sure is a paridise, but I don't mind. Because surrounding me, stacked neatly on shelves, are thousands upon thousands of books._

_I smile to myself and stand up from my position on the floor to stride over and grab a book from the shelf. However, before the tips of my fingers even touch the spine, a clap of thunder booms in the sky, startling me._

_I look up to see that the sky is no longer blue. The sun is obscured by thick, dark clouds. And then, it begins to rain._

_Water falls from the sky in buckets, and soon I am ankle-deep in it. No problem, I think, I'll just leave._

_But when I look around the room for an exit, I remember what I noticed from earlier._

_There are no ways to the outside from here. It is simply a box, and I am trapped inside._

_Beginning to panic now that the water is up to my waist -and still rising quickly- I flounder around. I try to yell for help, but my throat closes up and no sound escapes._

_As I run in slow-motion through the neck-high water, I loose my footing on the slippery floor and plunge into the icy depths._

_I can't breath. I can't feel. I can't think. Air bubbles stream from my mouth in a silent scream for help._

_Which way is up? I don't know. Flailing my arms, kicking my legs, it's no use. Black spots begin to appear in my already dark vision, and my movements get weaker and weaker, my lungs slowly filling with the icy liquid-_

I awake thrashing and shreiking, my limbs tangling in my sheets as I claw at empty air. My door bursts open, and people in white coats rush in. They surround me, pin down my weak body. I fight them, still half in my dream world and convinced they are here to kill me.

Something sharp pricks the skin of my shoulder, and my struggles become weaker as the world spins around me. The last thing I see is B at the edge of the room, a sadistic grin streached across his face. Then, my world blurs into blackness.

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	2. Consequenses

I stare at the contours of the old oak desk, my eyes following the veins and notches in the wood. I refuse to look up at Rodger, and see the dissapointment evidant on his face.

However, the slap of something being roughly tossed onto the table makes me glance up. I don't meet his eyes, instead stairing at the document. It's a standard brown duotang, my name written in black sharpie on the front.

"What is this?" I ask quietly, my voice barely above a whisper.

"You're smart, Zen. You figure it out." He knows I know what it is. It's my file, of course, containing everything about me. My real name, birthdate, parents, history, school marks, yearly physical exams. And of course, every bad number marking down how much my insanity increases each year.

All this for one thing.

"You know, ever since you got here, I thought you would be the one." My head snaps up at this, and I stare right at him. He looks dead serious, and I begin to tremble.

"Near did too, you know," Rodger continues calmly, "He kept an eye on you throughout your time here. But it seems we expected too much of you. You cracked under the pressure. You are simply unable to become his sucessor."

"No, that's not true." My voice cracks on the last word. "I can, I can. Really."

Rodger shakes his head sadly. "Your mental state has deteriorated beyond what we permit even for the status of L. From now on, there will be an assistant constantly with you, to make sure you don't have any fits and to remind you to set your metronome at night to keep you from having nightmares."

You mean like a babysitter, I add silently. I'm almost nineteen, I don't need a babysitter.

But I keep my mouth shut. I'm a smart girl. I know that arguing will only make the situation worse.

In my peripheral vision, I see Beyond leaning against the wall. When he catches me looking at him, he winks.

I want so badly to blame this on him. I wish that I could make him the source of all my anger and frustration. But no matter how hard I try, I simply can't.

He's used me, manipulated and lied to me, until I am only the shell of what I once was. A shadow of what I could have been. And yet, I can't hate him.

The only one I can blame is myself.

For allowing myself to be tricked, for believing the lies. For becoming a puppet, controlled by a red-eyed, raven haired master.

Ours is a twisted, sickening love, if you can even call it that. I've never had real friends, or real parents, so I wouldn't know. The one thing that is stable in my life is Beyond, and that is why I could never leave him. If he would even let me.

"Zen, Zen!" I snap out of my thoughts, and force my gaze away from those captivating crimson eyes, to meet plain brown ones. I wonder how long Rodger was calling me to get my attention, and for a moment I think he'll comment on it. But instead, he just sighs.

"Go back to your room. I'll send your new escort in the morning. Good night, Zen."

"'Night." I echo faintly, walking out of the room. Beyond follows close behind, of course, draping one arm over my shoulders. It's freezing cold, but I don't complain.

"Well, that wasn't too bad." He comments offhandedly. I stay silent.

"Zen," He murmurs, "What's wrong?"

I know he's not asking me because he wants an honest answer. He wants me to lie. So I do.

"Nothing, just lost in thought." I whisper quietly.

He smiles at me, and I know that I've survived yet another conversation out of the thousands I've endured. Back when I was a child, I would ask questions I wasn't supposed to ask, say things I wasn't supposed to say. As punishment, he would breathe his icy breath over my skin, chilling me to the bone.

I learned to pick up on the signs. What I should say, and when. My life became one continuous script, each slip I made driving me deeper and deeper into a black hole.

As I walked through the familliar hallways, the crowd parted before me. Even if they couldn't see Beyond, they could sense his presence, and got the hell out of the way like the intellegent kids they were.

Soon, I was back at my room. Once inside, I had a scalding shower, and climbed into bed. It was my last night of freedom, before I would be constantly watched.

Setting my metronome, I curled up in the sheets, Beyond lying down beside me. He wrapped his arms around my waist, and I ignored the cold seeping into my veins, the steady ticking from the metronome eventually lulling me into a deep sleep.

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